Natural Instincts
by L.E. Lamkin
Summary: *NEW CH. ADDED!!* Dinosaurs. Buffy. Time travel. What more can you want? An in-progress novel set in S7. Please read and review!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer!! – The rights for _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all its characters belongs to 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, UPN, and Joss Whedon and all of his brilliant cohorts.  I am in no way trying to steal the characters, just borrowing them for a little while for some fun.  Thank you. 

Author's Note!! – This is my latest attempt at Buffy fiction.  I always say I'm going to stick with something when I post it, but for this I'm about 99% sure I will be finishing it.  It's just a feeling I have about this piece.  I hope everyone enjoys it.  Please do not hesitate to drop me a review and let me know what you think, as I am putting a lot of work into this.  : )

Historian's Note!! – This novel takes place in the beginning of Season Seven.  For anyone who knows more about the episodes and the chronological order of things, I'm basically setting this story between episodes 7.4 "Help" and 7.5 "Selfless".

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Natural InstinctsPRIVATE **

/// Prologue ///

            Buffy Summers grimaced at the reflection in her bedroom mirror.

            Her long golden locks were piled high on top of her head, held in a loose bun with stray strands falling all across her neck and forehead.  She was dangerously close to running late for work, and her little flight-of-fancy in hair styling was seriously starting to grind her nerves.  This new 'do just wasn't working for her.  

            She was just about to consider putting it into pig tails (she remembered doing it once before and thought it was really cute) when her little sister Dawn barged into her bedroom completely unannounced - big surprise.  Buffy loved her sister just about as much as she possibly could, but the girl was a pure spaz.

            And her manners weren't exactly top-notch.

            "Xander's here!," she announced breathlessly, her mahogany colored hair (now lightly frosted with blond - her idea) floating around her petite face like a luxurious dark waterfall.  "He promised me I could drive this time!"

            "And when was this promise that will not become reality made?," Buffy asked sharply, casting a sidelong glance at the brunette Summers woman.  Buffy had to admit that she was sometimes over-protective of Dawn, but it wasn't as if it were without merit.  As the Slayer, Buffy was always inherently cautious, what with the chance that some ooky demon could attack her or her friends and family at any moment.

            "Oh, come on, Buffy, just because you were never a good driver, it doesn't mean that I will be!," Dawn pleaded, giving Buffy her patented puppy dog eyes.  Buffy rolled her own hazel eyes and went back to trying to manage the honey-colored bob sitting atop her head.

            "I just don't know if you're ready for it," Buffy murmured as she ran her fingers through her hair, grimacing over and over at each style attempt.  "Learning to drive is kind of a big deal.  And¼and¼"

            "Still waiting for good reasons," Dawn said impatiently.

            A loud horn sounded from out on the street in front of their quaint two-story home on Rovello Drive.

            "That's Xander," Buffy said hastily, glancing one last time at her hair which had suddenly become a lost cause.  She had resigned herself to letting it stay down, hanging around her face like a light yellow curtain.  She grabbed Dawn by the arm gently and led her out of her bedroom, where they ran into Willow, who looked slightly tired and out of it, as if she hadn't gotten much sleep.

            "Hey Will," Buffy said over her shoulder as she and Dawn headed for the staircase so they could get off to the high school.  She stopped for a moment and looked more closely at her friend.  "You okay?"

            "Fine¼," the red-head replied slowly, looking pensive.  "Fine."

            Buffy glanced over at Dawn and motioned for her to go on out and get in the car.  Dawn silently read the signal and went down the stairs, the sounds of the wood creaking beneath her steps the only sound to fill the nearly empty house.  Buffy found that even with a lot of people in it, the house always seemed to feel kind of empty, ever since her mom had passed away.

            But those were thoughts she didn't like to think very much.

            "Hey," Buffy said softly, approaching Willow.  "Is everything all right?  Did you not get to sleep last night?"

            "Oh, I slept¼," Willow answered, but Buffy could tell she was lying.  "Okay, so I pretended to sleep.  For a little while.  But then I couldn't even do that.  So mostly it was just me laying awake in my bed all night."

            "Thinking about Tara?," Buffy asked hesitantly.

            "Among all the other horrible thoughts dancing around in my head," Willow admitted.  "I guess I'm still just trying to deal with it all, you know?  It's like I've barely even processed what happened.  Maybe I never will."

            "I know it's hard," Buffy said with a slow nod.

            "I sometimes wish I could just¼I don't know¼," Willow said at length, tugging at the hem of her nightshirt.  "That I could go back in time, make things different.  Change it¼"

            "I know how you feel," Buffy said softly.

            Xander honked once again, this time three times in a row.  Buffy sighed impatiently and Willow smiled wanly.  She nodded towards the front end of the house, where the sounds of Xander's honks were coming from.

            "You'd better go," the witch said warmly.  "All those kids with boyfriend problems and big hairy demons trying to kill them and whatnot.  Plus all that honking is probably not going to make the neighbors too happy."

            "I'll talk with you later," Buffy promised with a warm smile.  Willow returned the smile half-heartedly, and made her way into the bathroom as the sounds of Buffy's retreating footsteps echoed up through the staircase.  A moment later, the sound of the front door being shut rang through the house, and Willow was alone.

            She ambled into the bathroom and fumbled with the light switch for a moment before flicking the light on.  Shouldering off her robe, she let the garment slip to the ground and walked over to the sink to brush her teeth.  She stared at her face in the mirror, examining the light purple and gray smudges beneath her eyes, and the stricken expression on her pale face.  She really did look awful.

            And she felt the same way.

            A small tear escaped over her lower eyelid, running down her cheek, slipping back and forth over the contours of her skin before skidding to a slow stop near the bottom of her chin.  Her lips began to quiver, slowly, barely noticeable.  Soon enough, more tears began streaming from her eyes, and almost as if in slow motion, she crumbled against the porcelain sink, her entire body weight falling into the water fixture, her legs no longer strong enough to hold her up.  

            She was sobbing hard now, lost in grief.

            Through the thick fog of sadness that had suddenly settled over her brain, she managed to bring one clear image to the forefront of her mind¼bathed in golden light, her shoulder-length chocolate colored hair, those sparkling eyes¼that smile that simply took her breath away every time she caught a peek of it¼

            She remembered how wonderful it had felt to have her back in her arms after their break-up.  That reunion would be forever etched in Willow's mind, eternally repeating itself in her mind's eye.  It was all she had left, now.

            "Tara¼," she managed to gasp out between sobs.

            She slipped to the tiled floor of the bathroom, feeling empty.  She stared at her discarded bathrobe blankly and let the tears continue to flow.

///

            "We don't get too many outside dealers around here."

            Darren Monroe stared over at the Sunnydale Museum's curator blankly, looking the man up and down.  He was old, probably in his late forties, with thinning brown hair speckled with light gray strands here and there.  His eyes were creased with wrinkles and his chin and cheeks were weathered by laugh lines.  Or lines caused from constant grave worrying.  Darren figured by the lame monotone voice the man possessed, that it was probably the latter.

            "I have many¼specialties," Darren told the curator.  "Mostly in ancient antiques.  I think you would enjoy to overlook what I have to offer.  Sunnydale is such a progressive little town.  It's really¼going places."

            "Well, like I said, there aren't usually many people offering," the man - Darren was pretty sure his name was Mr. Klein - said slowly.  His face brightened a little.  "I am expecting something, though.  Something really quite special."  His voice lowered to an almost conspiratorial whisper.  "Wait until you see it.  Oh, it'll be a scream.  It should be here any moment."

            "Sounds exciting," Darren said dryly.

            "It is, it is," Klein said with a strange grin.  Something about the old man seemed off, as if he hadn't taken some medication he should have.  Darren was finding it hard to be near the man, but knew he must see this through.  

            The front doors of the museum scraped open, causing a loud screeching noise to echo back to the two men standing in the back of the museum.  Mr. Klein's face lit up expectantly, a strange gleam lighting up his eyes.  He rushed away from Darren, rubbing his hands together eagerly.  Darren followed him, mildly amused.  He wondered if this man really did have some kind of mental condition.

            He sure did act strange.

            Three young men were gathered around an extremely large, weathered wooden crate, with the words "EAST ASIA, FRAGILE" printed on each side in wide black ink.  Mr. Klein hurried over to the crate - easily five foot squared on each side - and lovingly swept his hand over the top of the box.

            "Are you Robert Klein?," one of the delivery men asked briskly.  The curator nodded vigorously, and the delivery man handed him a clipboard to sign for the arrival.  With shaking hands, Klein applied his signature to the form, and the delivery men quickly exited the museum, their job done.

            "I've been waiting for this moment¼," Klein whispered feverishly.  He turned to Darren, a look of raw excitement contorting his aged features.  "Would you like to see it?  You'll be the first person ever to see it!  Won't that be marvelous?"

            Darren simply nodded.  Klein rushed off, and a moment later, he returned with a slightly rusted crow bar.  Within moments, he managed to rip the lid of the crate off after hinging it off with a few good tugs.  The wooden lid slipped to the floor with a loud clatter, and a small cloud of dust emenated from inside the crate.

            Mr. Klein stepped back suddenly, gasping, almost as if he were afraid.

            "It's¼it's breathtaking," he whispered.  "Almost¼almost scary."

            Darren turned to look Mr. Klein right in the eye.  The curator suddenly noticed that the strange man who had claimed to be an antiques dealer suddenly had eyes of pure black, like two bright stones made of onyx.  They gleamed with unseen power, crackling with a force unheard of by man.

            "Wanna see something really scary?," Darren asked, his voice distorted and deep, like another person was speaking through him.

            Before Mr. Klein could utter a sound, a bright light like a flash of lightning sliced out of Darren's raised hands, igniting him in a sudden gust of flame.  Within a second, Mr. Klein was nothing but a scorch mark on the ground.

            His eyes slowly turning back to normal, Darren turned back to the open crate.

            "Finally, it's mine," he said softly.


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews.  Especially you, Willum.  It's nice to hear from you after so long.  Nice to know you still check out my stuff once in awhile.  I've been kind of absent from the FF.net world for awhile.  I do hope everyone enjoys this story.  I am really enjoying writing it.  Also, about those weird ¼ thing, hopefully they won't appear anymore.  I'm pretty sure of what was causing it, so hopefully the problem is solved.  Anyway, enjoy the new chapter.  I'd also like to send out a special thank you to my friend Sean, a.k.a. Finn Mac Cool, who has REALLY been helping me along the way on this piece of work.  You don't know how much your input means!  Thank you so much.  On with the story..

/// Chapter One ///

            Buffy hung up her thin wool jacket on the hook inside her small cubicle at the high school.  She fluffed her hair a little and sat down at her desk to check out her schedule for the day.  She had a couple of students already scheduled to come in and talk with her, but those appointments didn't start until after nine o'clock.  That give her two whole hours to do - not much.

            She slumped in her chair, feeling bored.  Being a student counselor for the new high school had sounded like a great deal at first: she'd get to be on campus as much as she liked, she could keep a close eye on Dawn to make sure she didn't get into any trouble, and she could try her best to keep the students and faculty safe from whatever unholy hell decided to rear its ugly head.

            She only hoped her sister's class would have a more smoothly running graduation than her's had.  Considering the school even made it to graduation.  But still, all that aside, Buffy found herself feeling quite bored most of the time.  She loved talking to the kids about their problems, but - when she was alone, she wondered how much of a point her job really had.

            Of course she would never say any of that out loud.  

            Any job was better than slinging burgers at the Doublemeat Palace.  At least that's what she kept telling herself.  

            Sighing, Buffy leaned back in her chair, and she was just about to think about maybe secretly taking a nap in the nurse's office when her phone rang.  She leapt up straight, suddenly alert, afraid she might get caught lazing about on the job.  Principal Wood was no Snyder when it came to strictness, but Buffy didn't want to take any chances whatsoever.

            "Buffy Summers," the Slayer said, answering the phone.  "How can I help you?"

            "Buffy!," a voice cried over a thick film of static.  "Buffy, it's me!"

            "Willow?," Buffy queried, straining to hear her friend.  She wasn't coming through very well.  "Will, are you on a cell phone?"

            "Yeah, I'm over on campus getting some things straightened out," Willow informed the Slayer.  "You know I'm supposed to be starting up school again here soon.  I just saw the morning paper.  Do you have it?"

            Perplexed, Buffy rummaged through some papers on her desk.  She knew she'd picked up the Sunnydale Press on her way into the building; it was in there somewhere.  There!  She shoved some papers out of the way and brought the newspaper to the forefront, looking over its contents.

            "What am I lookin' at?," Buffy asked.

            "Page two," Willow said quickly.  Buffy turned the page and saw a small article detailing a disappearance.  "It was the museum curator.  The report says he mysteriously vanished.  All that was left were some scorch marks on the ground.  And - an empty crate.  That's it."

            "What was in the crate?," Buffy asked, quickly scanning over the article.

            "A dinosaur skull," Willow replied at length.  "I don't know about you, but when I read that, I thought to myself, 'Self, that sounds pretty fishy'.  What do you think?  Should the Slayer get on the job?"

            "It does sound weird," Buffy concurred.  "I'll stop by the museum today after school lets out.  Thanks for the tip, Will."

            "No problem," Willow said.  "It's just a part of the job description as Slayer helper."

            "You sound like you're feeling better," Buffy remarked.

            "I don't know, I guess it was just a slow morning," Willow said.  "Once I took a shower, I felt a little better.  Don't worry about me."

            "Well that's part of my job description as best friend," Buffy replied.

            "Look, Buffy, I gotta scoot," Willow said suddenly.  "I'll check back with you later on today about what you find at the museum."

            "Sounds good," Buffy said, narrowing her eyes.  "Bye, Willow."

            The other girl hung up, and Buffy looked down at the newspaper article splayed out in front of her.  It looked like what was going to be a slow day was starting out to be something entirely different.

///

            Willow stopped just outside the building she'd been walking towards while talking to Buffy on the phone.  She took a deep breath.  Part of her knew she shouldn't be doing something like this.  She knew it might be dangerous.  She didn't even really know how her powers worked now.  Not exactly, anyway.  Sure, she'd gone through some rigorous lesson-learning with Giles over in England, but she was pretty much untested in the real world.

            But the other part of her, the part that simply wanted to throw caution to the wind and not care about the consequences magick could bring, wanted to forget about worrying and just _do.  _

            Nodding, finally resigning herself to the fact that she was going to do this, Willow approached the small magic shop that had somehow mysteriously shown up not long after the destruction of the Magic Box - which Willow was kind of partly responsible for.  Okay, fully responsible.  Buffy had only been trying to stop her after she'd gone all black-magick-queen-of-darkness, and much damage had occured.  No one really held it against her (except for Anya, but only a little) but she still felt guilty about it.

            However, those thoughts were distant from her mind as she entered this new place.  As the heavy wooden door slowly shut behind her, the thick smell of incense and the sharp scent of lavender filled her nostrils.  She grinned despite herself, unable to control her glee.  She always felt like a kid in a candy store whenever she was in a magick shop.  All the supplies, and the books and the smells...it was enough to make her feel all tingly inside.

            She took a few steps into the dimly lit store, engrossed in the peculiar little artifacts scattered about on small wooden tables situated throughout the very square one-story shop.  She fingered a couple of bright golden crystals, and she was distantly aware in her mind that they could be used to dispel an evil force from your home if used with the right incantation.  Across the room she spotted a couple of other things that piqued her interest, and she ambled over to them, enchanted by this quaint new place.  It seemed so homey, and Willow felt like she...belonged there.

            She was just beginning to admire a sparkly little charm necklace that was supposed to give its wearer momentary extra intelligence, when a hand landed on her shoulder.  

            Gasping, she spun around, and only managed to catch her breath when she saw a handsome looking man who looked to be somewhere in his late twenties or maybe even his early thirties, with hair as dark as coal and eyes of deep azure blue.  His skin was slightly tanned, and Willow wasn't sure if that was from the California sun or if it might be part of his heritage.

            "Quite pretty little charm, isn't it?," the man asked.  Willow suddenly realized he must have been the owner of the shop.

            "Uh - uh, yeah, real sparkly," Willow said, laying the charm necklace back in its original place.  "But, but that's not what I really came here for.  I just needed some, some stuff.  You know, little stuff.  Real little.  'Cause, 'ya know, wouldn't wanna do anything too big.  That could be troublesome."

            "I see," the man said, grinning a little.  "Anything I can help you find - Willow?"

            Abruptly, Willow looked up, making eye contact with the shop owner.  She looked at him suspiciously.

            "How - how did you know my name?," she asked.

            "Well, I run a magick shop," he told her with a twinkle in his eyes.  "You would expect me to have magickal powers, wouldn't you?"  Willow raised an eyebrow dubiously.  "Okay, so I saw your name on that form sticking out of your bag."  Willow looked down at her satchel slung over her shoulder and noticed that the top part of her re-admittance form for U.C. Sunnydale was hanging out, ready for all to see.

            "Good one," Willow deadpanned.

            "Well now that I know your name, it's only fair to introduce myself," the man said slyly.  "I'm Darren.  Darren Monroe."

            "Willow Rosenberg," Willow said, extending her hand.  Darren took it in his own and shook it firmly.  He looked down at her pale, frail hand and nodded almost appreciatively.

            "I can sense the magick in you," he told her.  "You are very powerful."

            "Yeah, well, that's me," Willow said uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to another.  "Powerful Willow.  That's what they call me – at  - places.  Magick places.  That old Willow, all powerful and, and whatnot."

            Darren chuckled a little at Willow's babbling.

            "You have no need to be nervous around me, Willow," Darren said soothingly.  "You're among friends."

            "Always good to know," Willow said.  "I need some mandrake root.  And a couple of sparrow livers."

            "Ah, you are interested in time travel," Darren said slyly.

            "Well, not really," Willow murmured, looking away.  "I mean, it's a simple time pool spell.  All you've got to do is put the sparrow liver in the water and sprinkle in some of the mandrake, and then.."

            "I know how to cast a time pool spell," Darren said with a grin.  "What time are you planning on looking in on?  Anything specific?"

            "It's kind of - personal," Willow replied.

            "I understand," Darren said with a slow nod.  "Not every magician likes to reveal their secrets, if you know what I mean."

            "Y-Yeah," Willow agreed.  "That's all it is, magickal secrecy."

            "Let me go get you those ingredients," Darren said, disappearing.  Breathing a quick sigh of relief, Willow went back to perusing other items in the store while Darren was away gathering up the things she requested.  She walked near the back of the store, and noticed a large box stuffed with straw.  A very large box.  Curious, Willow started walking towards it, wondering what could be inside it.  Whatever it was, it had to be humongous.

            She was just about to move away some of the straw when suddenly, Darren spun her around by tugging on her shoulder forcefully.  

            "I have your ingredients," he said thickly, a look of what seemed to be momentary fear crossing over his face.  As if he was afraid he might get caught doing something wrong.  "That'll be twelve dollars and seventy-five cents."

            "Wow, uh, that much?," Willow said, voice shaking, as she nervously edged away from the gigantic box.  "You might remember a store, the Magic Box, I kind of used to work there.  Well, until it got all blowed up and stuff.  You might not know about that.  But their prices were a lot, uh, lower."

            "Well, a guy has to make a profit, doesn't he?," Darren said, almost icily.  For a few moments, there was absolute silence.  Willow fished around in her bag and produced thirteen dollars, and thrust the bills into the man's hand.  She smiled up at him nervously, and then started to walk away.  

            "Thanks for the stuff," Willow said over her shoulder.

            "Any time," Darren called back to her as the door to the shop closed behind her.

///

            Dawn opened her locker as all the other Sunnydale High students milled about on all sides of her.  Before she could grab out her books to take home with her that day, a small piece of paper slipped out, and she caught it before it fell.

            "Dawn – 

                        Come to my office after the final bell.  Field trip.

- Buffy"

She sighed and shut her locker door, rolling her eyes.  So she was probably going to have to go along on some demon hunting extravaganza or something, and she didn't exactly feel like it today.  She supposed she'd practically begged Buffy to let her in on the slayage but it was kind of a tough gig, especially for a sixteen year old high schooler.  Sometimes Dawn wondered how Buffy did it when she had been in high school.  Life had way too many responsibilities sometimes.

Boot heels clicking on the linoleum hallways, Dawn made her way towards the front office.  She wondered where exactly they'd be going this time.  If it was anything like their last "field trip", she was going to make Buffy get inside the kiddie coffin this time.  Dawn had no problems going under-cover for a mission, but sometimes it just went a little too far.  

She reached the office door and headed inside.

"Dawn!," Buffy called out, coming out of her cubicle.  "There you are.  Are you ready to go?"

"As long as it doesn't involve the Sunnydale funeral home, I'm game," Dawn mumbled, and at the same instant, Principal Wood appeared, looking at the two Summers women with quirked eyebrows, face contorted with confusion.

"The funeral home?," he asked, sounding perplexed.

"She didn't say funeral home," Buffy quickly said, eyes flashing back and forth between her sister and her boss.  Dawn mouthed the words "I'm sorry" and looked away, eyes cast down towards her feet.  "She said, uh, well, actually she did say funeral home.  'Cause, well, who wants to go to the funeral home?  You know Dawn and her wacky sense of humor."

"Yeah," Wood said slowly, nodding.  He smiled a little.  "I think I might go back to slightly-less-crazy-person-filled office.  You girls try not to get into too much trouble, all right?"

"Big check on the no trouble," Buffy said with a grin.  Still looking slightly confounded from Buffy's ramblings, Wood shuffled away from the two young women and retreated to his office.  Buffy breathed an audible sigh of relief and leaned against the outer wall of her cubicle.  She sent a little glare Dawn's way.  "Gee, Tactic Girl, could you have been any more blabber-mouthy?"

"I didn't know he was there," Dawn insisted.

"Never mind that now," Buffy admonished, gathering up her things.  "We've got some work to do."

"Yeah, what's up with this field trip thing?," Dawn asked.

"We're going to the museum," Buffy informed her as they headed out of the office and into the main hall of the school.  "Willow thinks something might be up.  The curator's gone missing."

"You think he got ate up?," Dawn asked blithely.

"We're gonna find out," Buffy replied firmly.

/// chapter 2 coming soon ///


	3. Chapter Two

/// Chapter Two ///

            Buffy shook her head slowly back and forth as she took in the scene before her.  There wasn't too much to be seen.  She'd only been to the museum a couple of times, and everything looked just as it had all those years ago.  All dusty and dark, full of browns and blacks and grays, with lines of statues and artifacts and all kinds of old stuff that she didn't know about.  

            But what really interested her were the strange black scorch marks on the floor near the front end of the place.  They stood out so starkly against the plain linoleum floor of the museum.  So obviously out in the open.  Whoever or whatever had struck the curator hadn't seemed to care about being seen. 

            "Something just doesn't seem right," she murmured.

            "You mean besides the fact that we have no idea what happened here?," Xander asked.  Buffy had pulled him away from the school construction on her way off campus and had him come with her and Dawn.  "We know as much as the rest of the town does.  That's not supposed to happen.  We're the special ones."

            "Don't worry, Xand," Buffy said with a little grin, "you're still special."

            "So what's your problem?," Xander asked.

            "Well, whoever did this either didn't care about being caught," Buffy explained, letting her words hang in the air like drying laundry.  "Or, is extremely stupid, and didn't even think about being caught."

            "Either way, we're dealing with someone pretty reckless," Xander said, picking up on Buffy's thoughts.  "And reckless usually equals dangerous."

            "Exactly," Buffy agreed, crossing her arms.

            "Did you see this?," Dawn called over to the Slayer.  Buffy directed her attention toward the lanky brunette, who stood beside a very large wooden crate, its lid tossed carelessly to the side.  Bits of straw littered the ground around it, as if someone had very quickly taken something out of it and ran.

            "Willow said that a dinosaur skull was stolen," Buffy remarked, eyeing the crate.  It appeared to have come from East Asia.  "Why would you steal a skull?  I mean, what, is someone planning on resurrecting a dinosaur?"

            "Kinda like Jurassic Park," Xander said appreciatively.  "Only less cool."

            "Is that even possible?," Buffy wondered aloud.  "I mean, bringing something back to life that's been dead that long?  Millions of years?"

            "You were brought back," Dawn said out of nowhere.  Buffy looked away, not sure what to say.  She was surprised that Dawn had even brought up her - return.  It was kind of an unspoken rule not to talk about it.  It was just one of those things that was better not to think about.

            "Well, I was hardly fossilized," Buffy countered, somewhat regaining her composure.  "That skull was probably what?  Sixty some odd million years old?  I had only been gone for, well, a few months.  I just mean, could something like that make a difference?"

            "Not exactly up on resurrection spells," Xander said, looking at Buffy uncomfortably.  "That's kind of Willow's sitch."

            "And she's busy right now," Buffy surmised, thinking hard.

            "Well, maybe -," Dawn began to say, but Buffy cut her off.

            "What we need is a suspect," the Slayer said.

            "Maybe we could talk to -," Dawn tried again, but this time Xander interrupted the younger Summers sister.

            "Well who do we know that could incinerate a guy on a whim?," the dark-haired young man asked.

            "Well I can think of one of Sunnydale's demons that might not have been afraid of doing something like that in broad daylight," Dawn said, finally breaking into the conversation, eyeing Xander with a quirked brow.  "A certain demon in the wish-granting department?"

            "You think Anya might have done this?," Xander asked, incredulous.  "But that doesn't really fit.  Why steal a dinosaur skull?"

            "Maybe she wanted to sell it on e-bay," Dawn suggested cooly, obviously miffed at being left out of the conversation earlier.  Buffy nodded a little, looking like she might agree with Dawn.

            "Hey, wait a second," Xander said, as if he'd just caught up with where the conversation was headed.  "Are you guys seriously thinking Anya might have something to do with this?  'Cause, gotta say, not exactly loving the sudden blame game."

            "I think it's worth a visit," Buffy said with a little half-shrug.  "Besides, Anya's got her vengeance gig back in full swing.  Back to the demonic roots and all.  Maybe she knows something."

            "Great," Xander said huffily.  "So now my ex-girlfriend is one of our informants that we pump for info?  God, I miss Willy."

            "Come on," Buffy said with a roll of the eyes.

///

The sudden sound of knocking at her front door caused Anya to look up from the magazine she was reading.  She blinked, as if she'd just woken up, startled at the unexpected intrusion of noise.  She sighed and put the magazine down, then hurried over to the door, unlocking it before turning the knob.

"Hallie, you could've just teleported in," she was saying as she opened the door, expecting to find her fellow vengeance demon friend on her doorstep.  Instead, she saw Buffy, Xander and Dawn all standing there looking at her expectantly.  She rolled her eyes and backed away.  "Oh, it's just you guys.  Look, if you need my help for some demon business or something, I'm kind of busy."

"We'll only be a minute," Buffy assured.  She let herself in to the apartment, and was quickly trailed by Dawn and Xander who both looked slightly uncomfortable with being there in Anya's apartment.

"Well I've got a, a thing scheduled," Anya told them, heading back over to her couch.  "So make it quick.  Wouldn't want my – thing - to be kept waiting."

"Museum curator," Buffy said swiftly.  "Missing.  What do you know?"

"Who do I look like to you?," Anya asked, flabbergasted.  "Spike, or something?  You can't just come charging into my home, demanding answers like that.  Just because I'm a demon now doesn't mean you're better than me or anything."

"But you have connections and stuff," Dawn said lamely.  "All your demon friends and stuff.  Haven't you heard anything?"

"I told you this was a dumb idea," Xander said quietly.

"No, what could be dumb about harassing your ex in the middle of their very busy day?," Anya asked loudly.  "We all know Buffy is pretty good at it.  You've been learning from the best, I see, Xander."

"Look, there's no need to get personal," Buffy said through gritted teeth.  "Either you have some information or you don't."

"Well I don't," Anya said snippily.  "So go.  Now."

"Anya, someone is probably dead," Buffy said forcefully.  "If you think I'm just going to walk away from this, then you better start wishing for a new set of brains.  Because I'm not going to give up.  Now tell me whatever you know."

"Come on, ease up, Buffy," Xander said, moving over to the Slayer.  "She doesn't know anything.  Let's just go."

Buffy crossed her arms, looking very much like she wasn't about to move.

"There's some guy in town," Anya finally said, her words like ice.  "He's new.  I don't know anything about him, but a lot of the underlings are talking about him.  Apparently, he's very powerful.  I don't know what he's doing here."

"You think he might be our culprit?," Buffy asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't know anything," Anya insisted, getting angry again.  "I told you what you wanted to hear, all right?  So leave now."

"Where can I find this guy?," Buffy asked.

"I heard something about a new magick shop opening up recently," Anya said, and suddenly she looked out into space, a look of almost - longing crossing over her features.  "Almost makes me wish the Magic Box was still open.  It would've been fun to have some competition.  Like Monopoly, only real."

"All right, we have our info," Xander said stiffly.  "Let's go."

"Yes," Anya said, snapping out of her sudden daydream.  "I agree with Xander."  She rolled her eyes and barked out a weak laugh.  "Been awhile since I said that."  She went back to her couch and plopped down on it, looking exhausted.

"Well, thanks," Buffy said quietly, looking down at her feet.  "For the tip."

"Yeah," Anya said, sounding almost bitter.

"We could - call you," Buffy said, holding out a hand in supplication.  "I mean, if we find anything.  Maybe you could, I dunno, help or something."

"Sure," Anya said, picking up her magazine again.  "Whatever."

Buffy looked over at Dawn and Xander, then motioned towards the door with her head.  The three of them quietly began to exit the apartment.  As the door shut behind them, Anya looked up at the empty space where her ex-friends had just been standing.  Troubled, she went back to her magazine, but somehow couldn't find the will to even turn the page.

///

            Buffy sighed, feeling defeated as she, Dawn and Xander walked away from Anya's apartment building.  She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her light wool jacket and shook some of her hair away from her eyes.

            "So, what do we know?," Buffy asked.

            "Besides not much?," Xander replied, quirking an eyebrow.  "Not much."

            "Well what about that magick shop lead?," Dawn pointed out, reminding the others of their one and only clue.

            "We can check it out, but it's not a for sure deal," Buffy said with shrug.  She sighed once more.  "We're pretty much still stuck in square one." 

"Such a familiar place," Xander said with a wry grin.  The brunette's eyes widened.  "Well, what about magick?  We could do a spell."

            "Like a locating spell?," Buffy asked dubiously.

            "Yeah, maybe Willow can cook up something for us," Xander went on, sounding like he felt this was a sure-fire plan.  "Maybe she can find a way to locate the skull.  Or maybe the person who stole it."

            "Like maybe some kind of finger-print locating spell?," Dawn asked excitedly, eyes widening.  Then she deflated.  "Okay, I guess the police probably already did something like that."

            "Yeah…," Buffy agreed distantly, eyes focusing on nothing in particular.  She looked very much as if her mind were elsewhere.

            "I'm sensing maybe you don't like my plan," Xander said apprehensively.

            "No, it's not that," Buffy said, her mouth working, but no sound escaping her lips.  She didn't seem to be able to figure out quite what to say.  "It's just.."

"What's up?," Xander asked, narrowing his soft brown eyes.  "You've got your 'something's up' face on."

            "It's just - Willow," Buffy said at length.  She ran a hand through her hair distractedly, and pursed her lips, thinking.  "She seems okay on the surface, yeah.  But there's definitely a lot of stuff going on deep down that none of us can really comprehend or, or even really grasp.  Not really, anyway.  I'm just not sure she's ready to get all Scooby Gang right now."

"She lost Tara," Xander said softly.  "It's been really tough for all of us.  But Willow really loved her.  They were so happy together.  And when she was taken away like that.. She's just trying to deal, the only way she knows how."

            "I'm just worried she might start falling back on old habits," Buffy said meaningfully, looking Xander deeply in the eye.  He nodded almost imperceptibly, understanding.  "She's still really powerful.  She cast that invisiblity spell or whatever on herself without even realizing it.  Who knows what she could be capable of.  What she could do without even thinking."

"But Willow's not evil anymore," Dawn said, shrugging.  "I mean, she isn't all veiny or anything, at least.  She wouldn't do anything to hurt anybody, even if she didn't mean to - right?"

            "That's what I'm hoping," Buffy said.  She sighed a little, feeling defeated.  "There isn't really anything more we can do around here.  We might as well get out of here, maybe do some research."

            "Ooh, books," Xander said with faux glee.  "I love books."

            "First, we need to check on Willow," Buffy said, ignoring Xander's sarcasm.  "I just don't feel too comfortable leaving her alone too long these days.  She needs people around her.  She needs her friends right now."


End file.
